


Wet

by awomanalone



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kitchen Sex, PWP, Smut, Table Sex, Washing up, wet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awomanalone/pseuds/awomanalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack does the washing up, Phryne intervenes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again everyone
> 
> This will be my first post in 2 months- hopefully this piece reads okay, it feels like ages since I last wrote.
> 
> Originally intended as part of a fic in my Fantasy and Reality series, namely Jack's date, but I had this part mostly written and I wanted to post something, so I decided to just go ahead and do it. So for background info, Phryne and Jack are already together in this, but there are not spoilers for Series 3 of MFMM. 
> 
> Apologies for the title, I can't think of anything else right now!
> 
> Hope you like it, there will be a part 2, as soon as I get some time (P.S. there's a hint about it in the tags)

Phryne swirled the wine glass between her fingers, perching on the edge of the table to give herself a better view. Jack shook his head at her, eyes crinkling at the corners, before undoing the cuffs of his shirt. He pushed the sleeves up his arms, revealing the muscled skin of his forearms to her hungry gaze. Even though she’d already had the pleasure of seeing every inch of him many times, of running her hands and mouth and tongue over every curve and crevice, it still gave her a particular thrill seeing him in this relatively innocent state of undress. Seeing the supposedly staid, buttoned up man slowly reveal his passionate interior.

Draining the glass, she placed it delicately on the wooden tabletop and padded softly towards the sink, coming to a stop behind him.

“Delicious,” she purred against his ear, revelling in the shiver that coursed through his body. Jack stilled his hands in the water, angling his head towards her with a smirk on his face. 

“I do believe that wine may have gone to your head, Miss Fisher. You appear to be repeating yourself,” he teased, eyes sparkling at her, “You already complimented me on my cooking.”

She stifled a laugh at Jack’s sharp intake of breath as she stepped forward and pressed the line of her body against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I wasn’t talking about the food, Jack.” She breathed hotly against his ear, letting her fingers flutter against his abdomen and trail ever lower. 

Amusement danced in his eyes as he fixed her with his trademark half smile, before he turned back to the task at hand, scrubbing at the plate in the soapy water. Phryne squeezed his waist playfully, moving her mouth lower to press against the curve of his neck. She had decided to make the arduous job of washing dishes as enjoyable as she could for both of them, and was going to see to it that her plan worked.

Her tongue darted out against his neck and Jack let out an impromptu moan, which turned into a growl as she grazed her teeth over his skin. Unable to stifle a giggle at his reaction, Phryne pressed her lips to his skin to muffle the sound. She remained in position, her nose nuzzled into Jack’s neck, and after a few long minutes he relaxed against her, continuing in his task. As he placed the last dish on the side to drain, she pressed herself into him more intimately, allowing her fingers to dip beneath the waistband of his trousers. 

“Phryne,” he groaned, his head falling back against her as her fingers undid his trousers with ease, the extra space allowing her fingers to easily find their way into his underwear and seek out his hardening length.

“What’s the problem, Jack?” 

She stroked him, briefly, before removing her fingers and wrapping her arms around his waist again, giving his body a playful squeeze.

Jack’s laughter reverberated through him, the delightful sound and the vibrations of his body against hers spiking Phryne’s lust even further. She needed him, wanted him, now.

Dropping her arms, she smiled as Jack turned to face her. His mouth quickly sought out hers, lips hot and demanding against her own as he wrapped one arm tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. She bit back a moan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and their tongues met, his other hand suddenly coming up from nowhere to cup her face.

“Jack!” she shrieked, shivering as the suds slid down her cheek and towards the open neckline of her dress.

The expression he wore was one of smug glee, mischievous and naughty, and Phryne thought he’d never looked so carefree and self-assured - not even when he’d fucked her up against her bedroom wall. Perhaps familiar terrain really was the key to finally unlocking her never ending source of mystery.

“Do you have a problem with me playing you at your own game, Miss Fisher?” he teased, his gaze unabashedly fixed on her breasts as the wet suds soaked through the thin silk of her dress. He was smirking, and as much as Phryne loved the sight of his smirk, she wasn’t about to let him have the last laugh.

Phryne gave him a grin of her own before kissing him again, and starting to back him towards the sink, running her hands from his hair to his delicious backside. Thrusting her hips against the hard length of his erection had the desired effect- Jack groaned, and Phryne struck.

Jack jumped, eyes flying open, as a barrage of water flew over him, and Phryne stepped back to admire her handiwork. Soap suds adorned his hair and face, and his white shirt was soaked through, giving her a wonderful view of his bare toned skin beneath. Glancing downwards, she saw that his trousers were equally soaked. 

“Did you get a little wet, Jack?” she fluttered her eyelashes playfully at him, and he scowled at her.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with that lightly, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled, shaking his head to let the water droplets cascade outwards and over her.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jack laughed, moving her grab her around the waist again, but Phryne stepped out of his grasp and towards the table.

“Come now, Jack, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

He walked towards her, raising his eyebrow as she gestured for him to perch on the edge of the table, before insinuating herself between his legs. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slipping her hands beneath the wet fabric to remove it from his body. Dropping the shirt on a nearby chair, she mapped the contours of his chest with her fingers, his skin hot beneath hers.

“When I invited you back to my house, Phryne, I never quite imagined this...location,” Jack chuckled.

Phryne stilled her hands on his chest. “Are you averse to the idea of taking me on your kitchen table, Jack?” she asked, her eyes finding his. She wasn’t entirely certain what his answer would be- she had the pleasure of knowing that he was fairly adventurous when it came to the activities of the boudoir (or of various other locations, as the case had luckily been) but whether that extended to his kitchen table was still to be seen.

She kept her eyes intent on his face, watching the emotions cascade over his gorgeous features. She noted the brief furrow in his brow and the tensing of his beautiful jaw, before one eyebrow quirked upwards as his eyes crinkled adorably at the corners. Finally settling her gaze on his mouth, desire coursed through her as she saw the corners of his mouth drawn up into a laughing smile. 

“I wouldn’t say that, I just believe a little change is needed,” he began, slipping off the table and bringing his body against hers, his arms around her back. Phryne looked at him inquisitively, her own eyebrows shooting up as his strong hands slid downwards to cup her behind. “If we’re going to do this, it shouldn’t be me on that table.”

She laughed as Jack spun them around and lifted her onto the table, pressing himself between her thighs. His lips sought out her collarbone as his deft fingers began unbuttoning her blouse, stroking over the curve of her breasts.

“Yes, I like this position, much better,” he chuckled against her skin.

To be continued……….


End file.
